


Trypanophobia

by Amp3tamin3dr3ams



Series: H2OVanoss Phobias Mini Series [1]
Category: H2OVanoss - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amp3tamin3dr3ams/pseuds/Amp3tamin3dr3ams





	Trypanophobia

Evan felt completely at peace with his lover's naked body tangled in his. He could feel every heartbeat, every breath, every little thing his lover did, and he absolutely loved it. Though he never was a religious man, he truly believed Heaven couldn't be better than this. His lover stirred, muttering something about being sore the next day, and buried his sweaty face in the crook of Evan's neck. Evan hummed with amusement and ran his fingers through the man's dark brown hair, earning a small smile from him.

“I hope you're fuckin' happy, Fong,” he said. “I'll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow.”

Evan chuckled and kissed his temple. “I'm incredibly happy, Jonathan, because that's how I know you're satisfied.”

Jonathan playfully growled and poked Evan's ticklish side, causing the bigger man to squeal and shoot him daggers. “I get to be top tomorrow. I haven't been top in a while and it's a pain in the ass to be bottom—literally.”

“But you're so good at being bottom,” Evan complimented, dragging out the “so” longer than necessary.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Jonathan then placed his head on his boyfriend's broad, muscular chest and began to trace his fingers over his equally muscled and tan abdomen. “I forgot you have this weird alpha male thing going on.”

Much to Jonathan's surprise, Evan lightly nipped his ear and giggled at Jonathan's cry of pleasure.  
“Hey, you're the idiot who fell for it.”

“And I don't regret it.”

Silence fell between the two lovers and Evan found himself gazing at his boyfriend's tattoos, as he frequently did. The colorful ink looked so breathtakingly beautiful splayed on ivory skin, like stained glass in a field of snow. Each tattoo had its own unique story, its own meaning, and Evan would often ask Jonathan to explain them, which led to Jonathan talking for hours on end until his throat hurt and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. The tattoos were mesmerizing, extraordinary, and gorgeous, and Evan never really liked tattoos until he laid eyes on Jonathan's. His fingers delicately traced the ink, careful to not wake Jonathan up, and the heat that formed in his gut took him by surprise.

“You still awake?” Jonathan whispered.

“Yeah, sorry,” Evan replied. “I was just thinking.”

Yawning, Jonathan stretched out his limbs much like a dog would and pushed his back towards Evan, inviting him to spoon. Which he did, with the ever-dominate Evan being the big spoon of course. “Whatcha thinkin' about?”

His fingers found the tattoos again and began to softly stroke them. “Did they hurt?” Evan finally whispered after a few beats of silence.

Jonathan shivered; whether it was at Evan's touch or his whisper, he wasn't sure. “N-not really. The owl piece on my chest hurt a lil bit, especially near my collar bone. I guess it just depends on where you get them and your pain tolerance.”

“Which one hurt the most?”

“The tree on my ribs, hands down. It felt like they were on fuckin' fire.” Jonathan chuckled. “But it was worth it.”

“Which one hurt the least?”

“Alright,” Jonathan said, turning his body over so he could look his lover in the eye. Bad move. Evan swore the air left his lungs and his heart was trying to break through his rib cage as soon as he saw those cerulean orbs. He was so captivated by the Southern man's good-looks he almost didn't hear him ask, “Why do you wanna know all of this?”

Evan blinked, coming down from his temporary high. “Huh?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Fuckin' goofball... You never asked about the pain or anythin' before. Why are you so interested now?”

“I've been thinking about getting one,” Evan announced.

That was a shock to Jonathan. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and repeated the process about fifteen times before he finally gave up and buried his face in Evan's chest. “No offense, babe, but you think you can do it? Considerin'—”

“I'll be fine,” Evan butt in, and his tone clearly suggested they end this conversation.

They mumbled their goodnights, saying they love each other and they promise they always will. And despite the peacefulness of it all, anxiety crept up Evan's spine and he dreamed of limbs being tied down and needles piercing skin.

 

“You sure about this?” Jonathan asked Evan over breakfast.

“For about the thirtieth time this morning, I'm positive,” Evan replied, his patience wearing thin. “Here, I'll get the dishes since you cooked.”

“Oh, thanks,” Jonathan said absentmindedly. “But seriously, Evan, a tattoo isn't something you just get on a whim. This shit's permanent and it can get pretty painful.”

Evan had already begun to wash the dishes, hoping that Jonathan would pick up on the fact that he didn't want to discuss it any further, and hummed a random tune to himself. As stubborn as ever, Jonathan wrapped his arms around Evan's waist and kissed the space between his shoulder blades, nearly causing him to drop a plate.

“I'll set up the appointment tomorrow if you promise me one thing,” Jonathan bargained, his voice low with seduction.

Evan was almost panting at just Jonathan's voice. He might be the dominate one, he might always top, but dammit when Jonathan wanted to, he could have Evan in the palm of his hand and control him like a marionettist with his favorite marionette.

“O-okay,” Evan stuttered.

“You let me top tonight. If you can handle that, you can handle getting a tattoo.”  
He should have known. Goddamn that man's persistence. Annoyed and a little turned on, Evan shut off the water, gave Jonathan a rough kiss, and growled, “Grab the lube because you're fucking the shit out of me right now.”

 

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked, concern laced in his voice.

Not trusting his own voice, Evan simply nodded. His palms were slick with sweat, his heart rate sky rocketing, and his breath felt like it was stuck in his throat. The sound of the tattooing needles pierced his ears and it took every ounce of self-control he could muster to refrain from covering them.

Evan was absolutely and shamefully terrified of needles and Jonathan was fully aware of his slight phobia, which was why he wanted to make sure Evan truly wanted this tattoo. It was an amazing idea—Jonathan's signature hockey mask on his left peck, right over his heart—and it made Jonathan feel tingly that Evan wanted a permanent reminder of his boyfriend. Not only had Jonathan made him his favorite breakfast (Belgian waffles drizzled with strawberry sauce, sausage, hash browns, sunny side up eggs, and a glass of orange juice), he also bought him a new cat meme t-shirt, played his favorite album over their speakers at home, and gave him a back massage before they came over to the tattoo parlor.

Carl's Needles was a fairly decent place. The walls were decorated with amazing sketches of many various things—flowers, quotes, portraits of different people, animals, etc. There was a small black couch next to the door that had colorful designs drawn on the cushions. Jonathan was sitting on the couch, his feet propped on the table in front in it, and flipping through a book of more sketches while Evan sat next to him, his leg bobbing with anxiety. Adrenaline rushed through his veins and he was hyper-aware of everything—the smell of ink, the sound of needles, the punk music that blared through the speakers, and the grunts of pain by the other customers.

He felt like he just landed on Neptune or something. All of the other people here were heavily tattooed, pierced, and wearing some form of graphic, heavy metal band t-shirt. Hell, even Jonathan fit in here with his tattoos, eyebrow and tongue ring, and his Korn t-shirt. Evan looked like a sheep that wandered into a pack of wolves and he was hating every second of it.

“You'll be okay,” Jonathan whispered in his ear and offered him a small smile. “After the first five minutes, you won't even feel it. I promise.”

Evan smiled back, a rare shy smile, and relaxed a little. “You look like you're loving it here.”

“Well, duh. Canada is so preppy and peachy. You hardly see people like me walkin' around. It's nice seein' a bunch of them in one place.”

Evan was about to open his mouth to reply but a guy in a white t-shirt and black jean vest cut him off, announcing he was ready to see him. Jonathan was the first to stand and grabbed Evan's hand, leading him to a room behind the front desk that had a chair with a table full of tattooing instruments next to it. Hesitantly, Evan sat down in it as the tattooer began to slip a pair of black gloves on.

“Nervous?” the man asked.

Evan chuckled. “Is it obvious?”

“Everyone's nervous about their first tattoo,” he explained matter-of-factually. “You're being smart by getting yours in a very muscly area. It's not going to hurt that bad.” He then sat in a chair and scooted it up to Evan. “Lift up your shirt.” He placed the sketch on Evan's chest and dampened the paper and then pealed it off, leaving an outline of the mask right over his heart. “Alright,” he said, dipping the tattoo gun into the ink, “here we go. You ready?”

“Wait,” Jonathan cried and ran over to Evan's side.

Evan shot him a confused look but before he could ask what the problem was, Jonathan gave him a quick kiss and grabbed his hand, lacing his fingers through his and squeezing slightly.

“Okay, now I am,” Evan replied, feeling a little better.

The man turned the gun on and then started to trace the sketch. It felt like a million fire ants were biting at Evan's skin, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning. His tightened his grip on Jonathan's hand, and Jonathan reassuringly patted his arm. Seconds felt like hours and each time the needle pierced his skin, Evan felt like he was going to have a panic attack, but Jonathan kept him relativity calm by telling him how well he was doing and gently stroking his bicep. It still didn't help his rapid heart rate or the nausea that rolled around his empty stomach. He tried not to watch, he really did, but it was nearly impossible to look away from the needle as it drew lines across his skin. And although it was morbidly fascinating, Evan was fighting the urge to worm out of the chair and run home with just the outline of the mask.

“We're almost done here, man. We just need to do the shading,” the tattooer announced. “How are you holding up? Need a break?”

“Maybe a small break. Just need some fresh air,” Evan replied, trying his keep his voice as steady as possible.

The tattooer nodded and scooted is chair away so Evan could stand. “Sounds good. Just come back in here when you're ready.”

Evan didn't need to be told twice. He dashed out of the front door before Jonathan could grab his hand. It was a fairly cold afternoon in Canada but Evan was sure he wasn't shaking from the wind. Panic wrapped itself around him like a snug blanket and, Jesus, he wanted to tear his own skin off. He sat down next to the door, his head resting against the brick wall and his eyes looking up at the cloudy sky. A bell rung, signaling someone had joined him outside, but he didn't care who it was. He didn't care that someone was there to witness him nearly having a panic attack. He just wanted to get over this—to be able to be around needles and not freak out.

“I would ask if you're doing okay, but that'd be a stupid fuckin' question,” Jonathan halfheartedly joked.

Evan snorted. “Yeah, it would be. Tell me, why did you let me do this?”

“Because you really wanted to,” Jonathan explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and then sat down next to his boyfriend, leaning his head on his broad shoulder. “Look, I know it's scary. I know you're scared shitless of needles. But you really want this tattoo. You can't let your fear prevent you from doin' what you want to do. Your fear can't rule your life. Hell, look at me! I'm scared shitless of crowds and just people in general but I still go to all of the conventions and shit, and I always feel good afterwards once the anxiety goes away.”

“I have to drag your ass there every time,” Evan muttered and then tickled Jonathan's side when he pouted.

“The point is, it's scary but it's worth it. You'll be so happy when you see that tattoo every time you look down at it and it'll remind you that you're strong, that your fears have no control over you.”

Blue eyes met brown ones, and Evan felt his lung deflate in the best way. Goddammit, was it possible to love someone this much? Jonathan was so perfect for Evan—even his laziness was compatible with Evan's athleticism—and Evan considered himself lucky to have a man like Jonathan, even though he wasn't sure what the hell he did to deserve him. Whatever it was, he's so fucking thankful he did it. After a swift kiss on the nose, Evan grabbed Jonathan's hand and let him guide him back to the room where the tattooer was waiting patiently.

“You ready?” the tattooer asked, gun in hand and a gentle smile on his thin lips.

Jonathan nuzzled his face into Evan's arm, giving Evan the confidence and self-assurance he needed to reply with, “Yeah, I'm ready.”

“Sweet! Then let's finish this tattoo.”

 

Jonathan's fingers traced the fully healed tattoo, his head on Evan's naked chest and humming a soft tune to himself. The two lovers laid in bed, stripped of all clothing and their sweaty bodies tangled together in the bed sheets.

“What are you humming there, babe?” Evan mused.

“ _Tear in My Heart_ by Twenty One Pilots,” Jonathan replied, and then traced the ink in butterfly kisses. “Y'know, you look really sexy with a tattoo. You should get another one, just sayin'.”

This caused Evan to laugh until tears formed in the corner of his Asian eyes, and soon Jonathan joined along with him but they were doubled over and struggling to breath. “Let's take this whole thing one step at a time. This one was a real bitch to get.”

“You should get my hand print on your ass,” Jonathan suggested as sweetly and innocently as possible.

Evan playfully glared at him and gently kissed him on the cheek. “You keep talking like that and _I'll_ leave one on _your_ ass,” he dangerously whispered in his ear.

“Bring it, Vanoss.”

“You're on, Delirious.”


End file.
